Morning Sickness
by velveteenMemoirs
Summary: Byakuran refuses to let his precious Shou-chan go; after all, he is a man who knows that opportunities like these only come once in a millenium.


**Title:**_ Morning Sickness_

**Synopsis:** Byakuran refuses to let his percious Shou-chan go; after all, he is a man who knows that opportunities like these only come once in a millenium.

**Rating:** _M_ - PWP; yet again, the smut is a bit…reserved, but just to be safe.

**Theme:** Romance and in the end slight humor.

**Disclaimer:** Amano Akira-Sensei owns Katekyo Hitman Reborn! and all it's characters.

* * *

Smooth, pale hands gently trailed down flustered skin. His touch, leading the redhead he currently fondled to believe was as light as a feather, spoke the words the white-haired male decided to omit.

"B-byakuran-san…!" The redhead warily called out, although it was done in a sense of relief, if anything else.

Oh, how he _**loved**_ to hear those pleading cries from his newest toy.

His hand stopped, purposely residing itself upon the redhead's hipbone. Byakuran leaned down dangerously close to his face, softly propping himself up with his left hand against the mattress beneath both of them, as he nonchalantly straddled his hips.

"Hmm?" He pseudo-obliviously answered.

"What is it, Shou-chan~?" He breathily chimed.

"P-p-please r-reconsider this!" The redhead desperately suggested.

Suddenly, the snow-haired male slid his eyelids open halfway. Shouichi, through the little sheer will he had left, managed to suppress as shiver whence he gazed into his amethyst eyes.

Sadly, all the while willfully, he was always too much of a spineless idiot to avert himself from the myriad of those abysmal, purple orbs.

"Ah-ah-ah, don't tell me you're already finished, Shou-chan~?" He playfully reprimanded.

The tone of Byakuran's sickly-sweet voice only added to the delusional redhead, who had long since pushed himself into another one of his self-enticed fantasies.

Whilst he did enjoy watching him in such an altered and, dare he say — "concentrated" state of mind, it annoyed him to no end when Shouichi's emerald gaze flickered away from his own.

Furthermore; nothing pissed him off greater than when his dear redhead hid his flustered, euphoric expressions.

Carefully, yet sternly, Byakuran grabbed his chin and hastily tugged it, so they now faced one another.

Snapped out of his trance-like daze, the redhead's view was soon obstructed with that of Byakuran's hauntingly gentle smile.

A worried, confused look decorating his features, his sharp intakes of breath gradually increased in a rapid pace.

He flinched as Byakuran continued to trail his had all along the bare skin of his thigh, before abruptly stopping mere centimeters away from the place his body ached the most.

Letting an eased breath out, he looked up only to fully regret having done said action.

If there was anything more that Shouichi feared in this world, besides the unbelievable strength of the Mafia, it was seeing Byakuran utterly irritated beyond belief.

…Though the pseudo-innocent façade he wore was simply a bone-chilling extra.

Biting down on his lower lip (having had no other means to express his remorse); he abruptly broke the tension when a light whimper ripped from his throat.

Byakuran, though all the more surprised by the redhead's actions, allowed his trademark smile to grace his softened features once more.

Successfully catching Shouichi off-guard, Byakuran leaned down once more, his breath panning over the redhead's lips. Shouichi's emerald eyes widened some at the determined look he wore.

A determined Byakuran plus a nude Shouichi sprawled beneath him and no will to push him off?

= a morning full of numbness and aches.

Before the snow-haired male even had a chance to toy around with his redhead, a self-content smirk furled at his lips at the indignant yet longing, hopeful look Shouichi sent from underneath him.

"I'm _really_ going to enjoy this, Shou-chan~." He pointedly cooed.

The redhead simply gulped down a bundle of nerves, before opening his mouth to protest.

(Not that he had anything against what Byakuran had in mind, anyways.)

"Byakuran-san, maybe we—nngahh!"

The snow-haired man playfully lap at the hollow expanse of skin near the base of his neck, a smirk ever-gracing his features.

Then again, he hadn't said he was willing to compromise, after having had such a chance thrown in his face.

"Eto…Irie-san?"

The redhead, too exhausted to do much, acknowledged the two pink-haired women who consistently checked up on him due to his orders, simply by grunting against a pillow that sheathed his face from the rest of the world.

"…Why are you hurled over in a fetal position? Do you feel anxious again?" They simultaneously asked.

However, despite as how caring they came off as, Shouichi thought of them nothing more than a nuisance, as well as an in-his-face reminder that he was constantly watching his every move.

Abruptly, if only for a few moments, tidbits of memory of what he'd done the other night formed in his mind.

Immediately, he leaned over the side of his bed and began puking once more, much to the pink-haired girl's reluctance to watch.

Then, a thought hit them.

"Irie-san…are you vomiting over…_Byakuran-san_?" They inquired, somewhat curious yet hesitant for his answer, with a dash of reluctance.

Shouichi stopped, staring at them for a second, before a wave of embarrassment tided over him as he flustered a dark red, fainting, as he landed face-first against his mattress with a dull thud.

So much for his proclamation of "never falling for Byakuran again."

…Not that he ever had a chance to go through with it.


End file.
